WHICH LEAVES only one thing: What of the supposedly fragile mind? "You know, you're out there for two or three hours by yourself and you've got to figure it out on your own," says Spreen. Tennis is probably sports' most individual game. Mid-match coaching is illegal. The pro player is utterly alone on that metaphorical island, left to work himself into or out of crises.

"It's something we've talked about," says his brother John, who was once ranked sixth in the world as a junior. "When I played I was similar, so I can relate. You want to keep your composure so you [can] give yourself an opportunity to win the match if you're not playing your best tennis. And for the most part he does a good job of that. Sometimes he'll let an umpire get on him or something, and it'll upset him."

But John points out that, at least in his brother's case, there's an upside to the volatility. Roddick is a fiery athlete who feeds on emotion. He's never going to be Mr. Cool on the court, and it wouldn't make sense to ask him to try. "If Andy just bottled everything up, he wouldn't be able to play very well," John says. "He's gotta let that out. To be honest, him getting a little upset on the court is not something we tend to focus on."

In fact, they let Roddick work things out all by himself. The team never hired a sports psychologist or attempted to mix any specific mental training into his routine.

"I think it's just experience," says Roddick. "You've done it before"— lost your shit, he means—"and maybe you can handle it a little more. But I don't think I'm ever going to be one of these guys who can just mute it."

He tells me this on a beautiful April day in New York City, where he's come to help his fiancée move them into a new Manhattan pied-à-terre. He's fresh off a convincing Davis Cup quarterfinal win over France and has been instructed by Spreen and John to leave the racket in its holster for a few days. But Roddick is set to meet with Patrick McEnroe in the morning, which he says has him "jonesing" to hit some balls. "It'll be hard not to play tomorrow," he says.

Roddick's publicist and sister-in-law, Ginger, who's been escorting him to interviews, gives him a look. "Do something else," she pleads.

Roddick looks right back: "I'm not good at anything else."